September Musings 2026

September greetings fellow gardeners and nature enthusiasts,

Some of the hops heading for upcoming beer-making

September is the month of harvest and putting food by. It seems I spend most of my time in the kitchen, because “everything everywhere all at once” begs my attention. There’s an exhausting element to this, but the rewards are well worth it and beyond satisfying. More about this later.

Let me jump to the present, because there’s been a feeling of urgency from customers and other folks concerned about the absence of birds in their yard. Feeders had suddenly remained untouched.

Late blooming Hubei Anemone brings back memories from a time long ago. I love it.

Last month I half-jokingly wrote about avian parents, finally free from raising their young and thus able to take some time for a little R&R at the beach. You smile, but in a way this is true. However, there is much more to it. It’s been very hot and dry, making food and water resources less available. Remember, birds get 80% of their diet from the wild no matter how much food you supply. “Greener pastures”- a pretty big draw. Anyway, not to worry, because today, the 17th, birds arrived here on the Knoll IN FORCE, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing more too. Bluebirds and cardinals we hadn’t seen in weeks, finches galore cavorting airborne, nuthatches chittering ceaselessly, blue jays powering through screaming their presence, Chipping sparrows rustling the garden duff, warblers skittering behind clandestine leaves (no way to identify them), and much more. I can’t help but wonder if birds arrive this time of year instinctually responding to some internal clock determined by the length of day coupled with the ripening of mast crops. Weather patterns must figure in as well. Regardless, they know stuff that I have no clue about, and that mystery will always remain perfect. They return, and that’s what counts!

Now I’m reminded of the weather on the 13th when we did receive a little over an inch of rain. I wish it had been more, because that heat and dryness I mentioned earlier had literally sapped the moisture from the soil. Perennials and annuals were suffering and still are. As I look about, leaves on some trees are drooping and even dropping prematurely. Rhododendrons look more like the fall foliage of maples with yellow, orange and red leaves very noticeable. Ornamental Zebra Grass blades are curled into tight spikes. I have to let nature take its course, as there is not enough water to go around.

We now concentrate on the veggie gardens to bring as much to fruition as possible. However, trouble had been brewing. Though hot, dry times had loosened some, humidity did not. And, boy, did things change as the calendar flipped to September. Crops went downhill fast.

What’s ironic, though, is that throughout most of August, it appeared we were going to have some bumper harvests. My first big haul of tomatoes came on August 31st- bountiful, beautiful, ripe, and flawless. I guess we managed to time spraying for disease control to be in sync with limited rain and careful hand watering. That was sheer luck. Yet, already I could see the hallmark signs of blight starting to creep up tomato vines (we cease all spraying as crops size up and start to show color). I tried to eliminate as many diseased leaves as possible, but I soon gave up. By now, come what may.

First steps to tomato soup

Quality suffers at this point, so I gather as fast and as much as possible to put by. Tomatoes to sauce and soup. Cucumbers to more pickles. Pole beans and eggplant parm to the freezer. Butternut squash to select daily for just the right ripeness, (mildew and squash bugs taking their toll). Meager, small-sized raspberries combine with enough clusters of forgotten Canadice grapes discreetly hidden in the boxwood to produce a full batch of jelly. I’ll stop here except for…

This jelly straining contraption not as much fun as hanging prepared fruit in a knee-high nylon stocking attached to a string that hangs from the peg on the summer beam!

A couple of weeks ago, while sipping my mid-morning coffee on the porch, I spot a big fat squirrel heading up my beach plum trees to steal treats of sweet juiciness. No way, Jose! Colander in hand, I race out. I didn’t think there was enough to bother with, but I ended up netting a full batch of beach plum syrup from that episode, the first in many years.

Let’s see…other animal antics? Domestically, half the chicken flock is molting. A tiny shake, and feathers go flying. The inside of the coop looks like a feather bomb went off. Egg production has dropped precipitously, and man, do I hate purchasing store-bought eggs…sigh.

As far as other animal doings go, skunks are out ever-earlier digging holes everywhere, some 10” deep, and even uprooting young plants. Gosh, we have to be careful not to trip on them as dusk descends. Gene has had many an encounter, but he knows skunks are benign creatures unless duly threatened. He talks softly to them and backs off a little until they just amble out of the way. I recall hearing about one that stomped at Gene (the warning), then raised his tail ready to do his thing. Gene gently explained that he was no threat and that he had to get the chickens in for the night. In deflating fashion, Pepe slowly lowered his tail, much like us slowly squeezing the air out of a balloon, and away he went. Good boy!

So a lone female hummer hung around the longest. I watched her take a sip of nectar from the porch feeder. She then hovered just above the railing close to the screen just for a mere second or two, looked me straight in the eye, and took off. That’s the last I saw of her. It was mid-morning. It was September 11th. It seemed significant.

That’s it for now.

Judy the plucky farmer